Grains of Sand

No matter what shoes one wears, how open or closed they are, when you walk along the beach there are always little grains of sand that get into your shoes and attach themselves to your feet. Those small, sticky, irritating grains of sand that cling to your skin, work themselves between your toes, that carry the smell of the sea with them, and they are still there long after you have left the open horizon behind you and headed home.

I want to continue moving forward, to walk quickly through those places where little things cling to my being, and dwell in the place where my heart lives fully open, vibrant, whole and unafraid. But those grains of sand seem to get under my feet, in the tender places, irritating my fears, rubbing against the quirks that I so wish were not there at all and they really slow my walk forward, or seem to slow things down. I wish I didn’t overreact to things that hit old bruises within. I wish relationships that seem severed could be healed. I wish I had answers to questions on things that blindsided me but I don’t. These are all bits of those pesky grains of sand that have attached themselves, clinging to my feet, getting into those tender places and they cause me to forget the beauty and wonder, and vibrancy, of this season, this summer of life. This warm, sun filled season offers doors to opening my heart even more to the Light and beauty that Holy Presence holds along with the grains of sands.

There must be a way to walk barefoot in the sand, letting those little grains come and go, and be able to laugh about them all because this is such a magnificent colourful season of life!

A Season of Seasonings

The pasta dough had to be just right - and this time it was perfect. Chef had it ready to go. The process of rolling it out, feeding it through the pasta roller and getting beautiful thin flat long pieces of pasta was very satisfying. Using the right size of cutter, the circles were laid out, egg wash brushed around the top half of the circle, the pork mixture placed in the centre and the other half of the circle folded over. Gently, carefully lift them off the counter, pinch the edge of the half moon shape to form a collar, press your thumb in the middle, fold over one edge, brush with egg wash, fold the other end over and press gently to seal, and there you have your freshly made tortellini. It would be an amuse bouche to be served with a foamy basil cream sauce and parmesan shavings for the evening dinner service. Chef and I worked side by side preparing the tortellini as he instructed me; keep my fingers firm but light to get the shape just right for these delicate little packages of flavour, to get the air pockets moved out of the filling, to not rip or damage the pasta dough, and to get the feel of the process. I had not made pasta since cooking school days over 10 years ago.

Our curry spice container at home was empty and as I looked for a new packet in the grocery store while doing my shopping, my eyes lingering on the varieties. I have been using smoked paprika, star anise, cardamom pods and plenty of vanilla beans and enjoying how they can shift the whole flavour of a recipe. Chef uses combinations I would never have thought of and while I cannot always tell the exact ingredient he put in, I know there is something subtle that has made the dish or sauce something very out of the ordinary!

Working in a restaurant kitchen was not a place I had seen myself being part of and yet that is where I am in this present season of life. In this small kitchen I am being mentored by a wonderful Irish chef who is calm, even tempered, creative, funny, and shows by example how to always strive to bring out the best flavours, colours and artistry in everything on the menu. A small quiet environment of tutoring, challenge and exploration seems to be the Divine recipe to add new seasonings within my whole being. Unusual combinations are present in this season of life and I can only stay with my theme for this year which is to remain very present.

Every day holds the same routine - make the focaccia, prepare the desserts and ensure that my station has all I need for the evening service for the appetizers and desserts. The routine has become familiar, comfortable and steady. Chef and I both love our tea and we start with a good strong cup to sip as we begin our day which starts at 2PM. But I am again experiencing the reality that in order to create delicious food, I myself must be very present. I have never been a dessert eater or creator, and have never really prepared anything but easy desserts, except in cooking school. Now that has changed because the menu has a dessert selection that holds some beautiful choices that require precision but more than that, as Chef reminds me often, you must learn to ‘feel’ the food. Let your hands become so sensitive that they know exactly when the bread dough is just right and exactly the right feel for the chocolate mousse. Food preparation has never before been so much about touch being needed for perfection but it certainly is now. The feeling must come first in my hands but it comes from my belly, my heart, the deepest places within that can be sensitive to the slightest difference which can and does change the outcome of everything I make. Know the feel of your food and it will make all the difference as to how it is presented and how it tastes.

This is a different kind of seasoning - the finely ground seasoning of patience, of routine, of striving for the best product without beating myself up when it does not work, of seeking quality with creativity while being mentored by another who does it exceptionally well. It is humbling to be the student again, watching, learning, seeing why something didn’t work and what I must pay attention to as I remake it. The seasoning of laughter adds the ingredient of joy and the ability to laugh at my mistakes in a lighter way. I am a perfectionist in the kitchen - I freely admit it. But my perfectionism has often come at the cost of making others feel less than if they didn’t do it my way. I want that to change - to learn to use the seasoning of beauty and creativity liberally, with the ingredients of joy, love, honour and dignity, binding it all together. The seasoning of incredible gentleness from Chef, the seasoning of grace, is like the chocolate glaze that is poured over the marquise - it makes the dessert look perfect and covers any little imperfections that have come when I removed it from the mould. I am learning in new ways how the seasonings of honour and dignity and gentleness bring out an eagerness and a joy in creating, even when it is under time pressure. Even in our small staffed kitchen, there is a lot of pressure on a busy night and orders come flying at you. My seasoning jar of patience and seeking beauty are what I must inhale and dip my hands in so that I stay steady, quiet within, and focus on making each dish, savoury or sweet, one that first delights the eyes and then the palate of each guest who is awaiting its arrival.

This summer season has been one of enjoying the sun and days off, and also of working hard in a hot kitchen. The heat of this summer has been intense, unusually intense. Even as I work in the heat, the Spirit gently reminds me to stay present, to lean into, and to learn what these seasonings will bring out in this season of this one life I have been given.

As Mary Oliver says in her poem ‘Summer Day’…

“Tell me what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

A Meditation Moment

Someone will describe something precious and in that moment they give words to what your heart feels but you cannot define. Recently I heard someone describe sitting at the piano as meditative space for them and it gave clarity to my own time in the same place. A place where you are free to let the music come, unscripted, unwritten, and it flows from your heart. Perhaps that is why the most glorious freedom at the piano comes where there is no one waiting for me to play.

Meditation moments are for you and the Almighty alone I think, and while there may be others around, they are on the periphery and you are unaware of their presence. Moments of beautiful love and Light that are a love line from God, in my experience. Often in this time I am lost and not even aware of what I am playing.

Communion is a sacred part of our Christian heritage and is also a meditation moment where another kind of deep love line is heard from the Almighty. The following song drew me into this space in a service and I keep looking at it realizing there is such a wholeness message from Jesus in this piece. I let these words flow, let notes come, and find this song bringing me to quiet places with the Holy One repeatedly .

Come Touch Our Hearts

Come touch our hearts that we may know compassion,
From falling embers build a blazing fire;
Love strong enough to overturn injustice,
To seek a world more gracious, come touch and bless our hearts.

Come touch our souls that we may know and love you,
Your quiet presence all our fears dispel;
Create a space for spirit to grow in us,
Let life and beauty fill us, come touch and bless our souls.

Come touch our minds and teach us how to reason,
Set free our thoughts to wonder and to dream;
Help us to open doors of understanding,
To welcome truth and wisdom, come touch and bless our minds.

Come touch us in the moments we are fragile,
And in our weakness your great strength reveal;
That we may rise to follow and to serve,
Steady now our nerve, come touch and bless our wills.

Come touch us now, this people who are gathered,
To break the bread and share the cup of peace;
That we may love you with our heart, our soul,
Our mind, our strength, our all, come touch us with your grace.

Written by Common Cup Company.